


hell hath no

by hulklinging



Series: 31 Days of Spooky [2]
Category: Avengers Academy, Runaways (Comics), Young Avengers
Genre: F/F, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Revenge, Undead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 11:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4918186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hulklinging/pseuds/hulklinging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America was murdered. Now she's back. She's dealing with it in her own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hell hath no

**Author's Note:**

> For my 31 days of spooky challenge. I wanted to write about an underused monster myth, so here we are.

She doesn't remember her death.   
  
She pulls herself from the ground with broken nails and determination, a girl reborn. Even months later she still has waking nightmares as she imagines what it must have been like for those who didn't make it out of the dirt, who had to be aware as their body began to rot.  
  
"That's fucked up," says her government mandated bodyguard, some white girl with nice arms and an annoying habit of snapping her ever-present purple gum whenever America looks like she might lose control.

She's not dead, as far as anyone can tell. She's also not alone in her awakening. Across the nation, children rose. All of them victims, all of them with a compass underneath their skin. Pointing them at the underbelly of society, at anyone preying on the innocent who consider themselves untouchable. Their fingers itch to dole out executions to those who deserve them, created by a god or by the earth itself to cleanse some of the filth from this world.   
  
Of course, this made many folk in governments nervous. Hence the bodyguard. They all get one, those who weren't mowed down in that first panic, when everyone was mistaking them for some mindless zombies. It's a flawed system, because the problem with undead child warriors is that their stories are often so undeniably tragic. More and more, America hears stories of pairs gone rogue, of rapists and abusers pulled from their hideyholes and ripped limb from limb.   
  
America and her siblings are very strong.  
  
America hasn't gone rogue, has done her best to ignore that pull of vengeance, ever since she got assigned her handler. Still, she can't help but stare down anyone on the bus or in the street that makes her heart strum. She wants these murderers, these filth to know she can see them. That she's waiting for them at every corner.   
  
She secretly hopes she gets to the man who killed her before anyone else. He's not the worst out there, but he's her worst, a mugging gone wrong, a pathetic little man. She wants to put him in the ground, like he did her. Poetry.  
  
In the meantime, she bothers Kate.   
  
"I cannot believe anyone thinks this is going to help."  
  
Kate shrugs, and pops her gum. She's reading a magazine, something that has articles in it like 'how to please your man so he stops cheating,' apparently. She likes to pretend she's more vapid than she is. America thinks it's a rich people thing.  
  
"It's something to do, at least."  
  
America raises an eyebrow at her. "Do you think it's going to help?"  
  
Kate shrugs again. Pops her gum. America wants to bug her, rile her up until she reacts with something other than apathy. She's sure Kate has a personality somewhere, she must, because she's twenty and loaded and also somehow qualified for guarding her. There's got to be a story there, and America's too old for bedtime stories but she's still a sucker for a good tale.  
  
Kate gives her nothing, just pulls the bell on the bus for the next stop, and motions for America to get off before her.   
  
They're here at this little community hall for a mandatory support group meeting for other Reborn. It's a new thing, and it's apparently going to be weekly, and America has already decided she was going to hate it even before she walks through the doors.   
  
That might prove to be tricky. Because she walks into the hall and ten heads turn to look, all kids like her, all with their hearts beating a little too fast to be human. And the woman waiting by the sign in table is a spider, her smile a lie America can read from here, and most of the caretakers are wearing firearms much too casually, and she wants to hate that she's being forced to spend two hours a week in this big empty room.   
  
But no one has really given her a chance to meet others like her, before.   
  
They start with introductions, of course. It's not as awkward as America expected it would be, although she keeps missing people's names, too distracted trying to catch the smudge of stories under each person's skin. There are things that stand out, like the one handler/Reborn pair sitting a little too close together. The handler is one of the few with no visible weapon, and he's a smiling, casual guy who can't be any older than Kate. He says his name is Chase. He's the first handler to actually introduce themselves, so America makes note of him, and of the Reborn he's looking after. Her name is Gert, and she is as closed off as Chase is open. Chase's story has no dark secrets or smudges that she can see.  
  
America smiles. Maybe they thought this was a good idea, and why not? Making them sit together and talk about what pretending to be normal is like, giving them access to people who know how they feel. But there's a danger to forcing them to gather, because it also means that for anyone who disagrees with returning to their role in society, they now have the chance to find allies.   
  
America eyes Kate and wonders if her apathy extends to outright rebellion.   
  
It takes three weeks for things to go wrong. They've been keeping to very safe topics in group, ones that have America rolling her eyes along with most of the Reborn, and even Kate has scoffed a 'useless' under her breath once or twice. But now Selene, their group mediator, has gone and chosen the topic of the day as 'what to do when the urge to kill comes over us,' and America's at the end of her rope.   
  
"It's not some random bloodlust," she cuts in. "It's more like... A judgement."  
  
The attention in the room, which has just started to wander, now zeros in on her. The room is perfectly silent. The people in the room who no longer have the instinct to breathe have stopped entirely. A few of the handlers shift in their seats, uncomfortable. In an instant she is battle sharp, muscles tense as she watches for movement.  
  
"Whatever you need to call that feeling in order to rationalize it, you must remember that it comes from the fact that your brains are not functioning at the level that a human- I mean, a normal human should."  
  
Kevin, a boy who has never talked in group before, laughs. She barely catches his muttered words.   
  
"Right the first time, lady. We've left humans behind."  
  
His handler looks uncomfortable. He's a big guy, and his ward is small, almost fragile. Bird boned. But there's no weakness in his harsh gaze.   
  
"That's wrong, though."  
  
This is Gert, frowning at the woman, who looks suddenly a lot more dangerous than she did a moment ago. America grins, a shark in the water.  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Our brains are fine. The report on the brains of those who rose being damaged was incorrect and based on no actual evidence." She pushes her glasses up her nose and continues. "In fact, although very little actual research has gone into anything regarding us, as people seem to prefer poorly-constructed scare tactics, preliminary studies show that we might be operating at a higher brain function than the average human. Some findings even suggest that our very genetic makeup has been altered or enhanced in some way." She shrugs, cold and calculating. "It's all really too early for anything concrete, though."  
  
"Atta girl," mouths her handler, pride in his eyes.   
  
The false cheer that Selene likes to wear is discarded.  
  
"And are you saying that this 'enhancement' calls for cold blooded murder?"  
  
"I was just correcting your science."  
  
"Were you, now?" She turns in a circle, staring us down one by one. "May I remind you that this program is a privilege. The government has allowed you to rejoin society, has granted you immunity from any crimes you committed when you first returned. That is a privilege that can and will be taken away from you if you refuse to renounce your acts of violence and work towards forgiveness, from your communities and from your peers."  
  
"Say, what's the government doing about locking up the people who killed us?" This is an Asian girl with a big radioactive tattoo on each shoulder. "Since they're so concerned about locking up murderers, or whatever."  
  
America sees one of the handlers reach down, letting his hand hang closer to his gun. Kate is tense beside her, even as she pops a bubble and plays what America's pretty sure is FarmVille.   
  
"Yeah, it's a funny thing, 'cause here we are under what's basically house arrest with a personal guard, and my murderer's still down the street. But no one seems to care about that!" This girl gets teary a lot, and her voice sounds shaky now, but America thinks she might just be one of those people who cry when furious.  
  
Selene has one hand in the air in a calming gesture, and her other hand on her taser. "Cassie, you know that as someone who is technically still legally deceased, you cannot testify, especially in a case like your own death-"  
  
"Murder," Nick, the boy who sits next to her growls. "She was murdered. We were all murdered."  
  
"And yes, Mr. Gleason, that's very upsetting-"  
  
"You don't say!"  
  
At the raised voice, Nick's handler stands up. "That's enough. We're leaving."  
  
Nick looks immediately pale. "But the session's not over yet."  
  
Radioactive Girl stands up. "You can't do that! We're supposed to talk about our feelings here! You can't punish him because he's doing what he's supposed to!"  
  
Selene raises her voice. "Everyone, back in their seats! Next one to act out, it will go on your permanent records, and you will face the consequences. No one leaves early."  
  
Radioactive Girl and Nick's handler both sit. The tension in the room doesn't dissipate. All eyes are on Selene, who takes a deep breath, smooths her hair down, and pastes on a smile.   
  
"Well then. It's obvious that you all still have a lot of aggression. It hides in you, not as obvious as when you first woke, but it's not something you can ignore, or excuse with misinformed delusions of a higher cause. It's something you all must confront, and in time it will fade. That is what we are here for. To support you, and to keep you and those around you safe while you go through this challenging time."  
  
America has been dodging the descriptor 'hot headed' her whole life. She knows the stereotypes, knows what will be said if she lets herself blaze furious and obvious. She usually waits until she's in a position where she can win, undisputedly. But she's sick of being compared to some addict, violence being her drug of choice. They are all the victims of violence, and being treated like criminals because of it is starting to make her ill.  
  
So she lets that rise in her, lets her fists clench. Beside her, Kate has stopped pretending to dick around on her phone, tense and alert. Her instincts are good. But she's only human.   
  
America is a being made of fury.   
  
"I told you, it's not aggression. It's judgement. It's justice." Her nails are digging into her palms, which just shows how hard she's clenching them, because she bites her nails down short.They feel like claws. "It's what we came back to do."  
  
"Oh?" Selene is usually a tall woman, but she looks smaller somehow. Her scowl warps her whole face, and when she turns her head for a moment America swears she can see her skull flash underneath her skin. "Is that what you think you are, Ms. Chavez? Some god, or judge, with the right to weigh others around you? It sounds like you think awfully highly of yourself, young lady. And no respect for your elders, either."  
  
Elder? Ha! In an instant America sees Selene's whole life in front of her, the pathetic blip that it is. She is much more ancient than that. She stands up, and someone gasps. She feels taller. She wants to get a closer look at Selene's skull, at the broken oaths behind her eyes.  
  
Selene has made the mistake of turning her back to her. "I'm recommending you be sent back to the containment facilities. I always knew you were a lost cause. I do love being proven right."  
  
Everyone else seems frozen. She feels her siblings around her, still trapped in the outlines of old bodies, like murder victims living in their chalk outlines. Beside each one a mortal, all their secrets stripped bare to her burning eyes. Infidelity, murderous thought, every dark corner of their mind is lit up by her light.  
  
The mortal that is Kate Bishop has dark corners too, but they're more familiar, _Oh Princess we could have been sisters if you had been a little less lucky,_ and America can see the face of the man who did it, too, knows exactly where he is. Knows exactly what his death will look like under her claws.  
  
And the mortal Chase Stein is laughing. She can see his intent, how every piece of him lines up with the girl beside him. Can see the secrets they keep together. She knew she liked him. And even if he's the only handler on their side, he does mean that they outnumber the rest.  
  
America smiles. Her mouth has too many teeth, and they're sharp. When Selene turns back around, wanting to see what Chase is laughing at, why Nick's handler is fumbling for his gun, she goes pale.   
  
America towers over her now. She sees herself reflected in Selene's eyes and knows exactly what she is. She is vengeance, and judgement, and Fury.  
  
"I'm older than most gods, lady." That's what she's looking for, that darkness, like bruises on Selene's bones. She promised to be a protector and uses that title to hurt. Not enough for America to trace out her heart with a claw, but enough that she doesn't hesitate to reach out, feeling the shadow of wings encompass them both, and drop a seed of madness into those eyes. The seed will grow into coiling roots, wrapping themselves around those broken promises and cracking them open. In every dark corner Selene will see her face, in every breath of wind, she will hear America's threats.

Judgement passed, she turns away from Selene, who has crumpled to the floor, and faces Nick's handler.

"That won't do anything," she tells the barrel of his gun, but he tries anyway. Someone shouts, there's the scrape of chairs as others rise, and the bullet bursts into smoke as it reaches her. She smirks, because she does like being right. Nick is on his feet now, his own claws growing, and she lets him deal with his own keeper. All around the circle, her siblings follow his lead. America sees hair shift to snakes, bat-like wings snap open, eyes blaze with their inner fire.

"Erinys." 

That's Kate. America turns to look at her, and surprises herself with how badly she hopes Kate understands, understands they don't have to be enemies.

Kate's still sitting, and her sunglasses are off, so America can see her eyes. There's fear there, but also something that can only be excitement.

It takes her a moment to find her voice. "Ten points to you, Princess." She feels her wings folding back up inside of her shell, her claws retreating and leaving her bitten-down nails behind. She is more than she was before she died, but she is still this, a girl who isn't always the best at making friends, who died at nineteen and rose again with a myth made real in her soul and who wants so badly to have this odd rich girl as an ally.

Behind her it is quiet. The handlers have left, some of them marked with their vengeful madness, all running in fear but one. Even without looking she can feel her sister holding tight to Chase's hand. She takes a chance and offers Kate her hand.

Kate takes it, lets America pull her to standing.

"I didn't think you even liked me, you know."

"Well, you were wrong. I... feel for you." _We've all been there_ goes unsaid.

When she turns, her siblings are all looking at her expectantly. She swallows, her mouth dry. Radioactive Girl is grinning, her tattoos glowing. Ten Furies and two humans against a world of terrible people sounds like pretty good odds to her.

"What now?" asks Cassie. All of them have returned to almost normal, but like the glowing tattoos and Nick's claws, they all seem to have kept one or two things for themselves. Cassie's taller than she was, and her eyes look like blue fire. America runs her tongue over her mouth of fangs, and tries not to think about how Kate still hasn't let go of her hand.

"Now?" She shrugs. "Let's save the world."


End file.
